BODIES.

Oh these bodies of ours. They can throw us for a loop so much can't they?

I'm sitting here with my giant jug of water that makes me look like a hamster when I drink it.

Hydrating because tomorrow is a really big race. St. Anthony's Olympic distance triathlon. One of my two really big races of the year (the other is the Augusta 1/2 Ironman in September.)

Right now it's 9 o'clock in the morning and we're supposed to be walking in the March of Dimes' March for Babies. I raised just over $700, just under my goal but still, our team as a whole raised about $6,000. (Thanks to all of you who donated directly and through Bondies for Babies! I love you!)

I wish I could see if our team won the family teams award like last year. My wagon is sitting in the front room all decorated because our theme was "NICU SURVIVOR." My son and I were going to wear camo.

It is the first time since my son was born that we didn't walk in this walk.

It feels weird and makes me want to cry.

My little one was up last night with a terrible fever and throwing up. I could have gone on the walk this morning with my older one, but I needed to take over the "next" shift after my husband pulled the all-nighter. Well I didn't need to, he could've handled it, but you know how it is. I got up and saw my husband sleeping on the floor in my little one's room and knew. I needed to be here.

My son got sick last night and I missed the walk today, but he slept in, we got up, I saw him eat again, I cleaned him up, sanitized his room, got everyone else fed and let my husband relax a little, instead of leaving at 6 a.m. to cram the 3 mile walk pulling a wagon into the day and worrying the whole way how he's doing and not enjoying that moment.

It's hard to let go of some of the things that are so important to me, like this walk.

But I'm trying a new approach to things and it's called (brilliantly), "letting go."

It's also called "cutting my losses," "living in the moment" or "come what may." But any way you put it, I'm trying to be at peace and guilt and sadness free with what happens and being one with my decisions.

It's not so easy though.

And it takes practice. I'm still practicing.

Now we're in sickness roulette, one of us may get it or NONE of us will get it! Who knows!? It's a wonderful game, isn't it!

And who knows, we might not race at all tomorrow.

But either way I'm ready for it.

And I'm hydrating with my giant water bottle.

Come what may, right? It's moment by moment up in here. I'm not anticipating anything and at the same time I'm anticipating everything.

So.

If no one is sick by 2 o'clock, I am picking up my race packet. If no one is sick by 8 o'clock tonight, I'm going to bed.

If no one is sick by 3 a.m., I'm waking up.

And if no one is sick by 7:30 a.m., I'M HEADED OFF INTO THE WATER in my orange swim cap. (ORANGE?! I WANTED PINK! But orange is my son's favorite color. That has always cracked me up and will definitely carry me through the swim. Even if I do look like fruit.)

Of course, I get almost everything that comes into this house so there is a good chance I may not be racing at all! However, the last time one of my sons pulled an all-nighter, no one else miraculously got it, so I'm clinging on to that. Strike that. Actually I'm just going to be one with whatever happens. Mkay? Now I'm just incessantly talking for the sake of hearing myself type.

For now, I hydrate.

If I go to bed tonight without any illness, I will post my traditional "Night before St. Anthony's" poem around bedtime and you'll know that I'm racing.

And tomorrow I will mobile post a picture from transition and you'll know I made it. (Of course I'll be tweeting from @christieo the whole time so you might know what's happening before then.)

But if it's Sunday and you're reading this, definitely one of us is hovered over the bowl, ok? So throw some "hope it passes quickly!" thoughts our way.